It's hot. I'm sitting here at computer, dressed in very cute pink skirt and tank top (I know!)sweating at 10 in the morning. Fili snoozes away on her bed, grateful that the roofers seem to have departed for a coffee break and are no longer scraping and banging overhead. Our landlord has, apparently, decided to fix things up as we're leaving. The gutter over one of our windows, we remarked just the other day, is held up solely by a cable that has been curiously wrapped around it. When we called this to their attention, they got right on it. I can't complain. They've been very decent landlords. Still, the noise and commotion does make it hard to nap properly.
Gabriel has entered a new phase, I think. He asserts himself with a new vigor. Now, when he wants to tote a cereal box around the house, sprinkling cheerios hither and thither like a crazed flower boy, he cries piteously and reaches for the cabinet saying "mo! mo!" And when I say, "no," which I admit I am beginning to relish, he crumples to the ground, oversized melon first and thrashes about for minutes at a stretch. It is bizarre. I don't really know how to deal with it, frankly. I mean, any idiot-parent knows that you can't GIVE IN, for the love of god. That would only MAKE MATTERS WORSE. But, it doesn't seem very constructive, either, for me to go read the paper, which is what I did this morning. Hmm. Eventually, though, he did give up on his cereal box fixation for the moment. We had a hug and a giggle and then he launched right into another obsession: ELMO. Oh. My. God. Though I admit to being a full-on Muppet fanatic back in the day, I did not see the ramifications of indulging his delight at discovering a pair of pants that I got from a friend were subtly embroidered with the visage of said Muppet. I am sorry. I did not know. One day, nothing and then the next, he points and says, "el-MOE." How sweet! How cute! But it quickly became...an obsession. He wants to sit and look at this website
with me all day long. All. Day Long. Here's how he asks,"el-MOE? el-MOE! el-Moe! Wah! Wah! Wah!" Over and over until your ears bleed and you are pretty sure you've transformed into one of those "meep-meep" characters, for all the sense you're managing to talk to him.
So, we've done the games, the songs, the make-a-monster (fun, actually), Limbo Elmo, Chicken Dance Elmo. Elmo goes to the Doctor, Elmo goes Potty, Elmo goes to Hell in a Handbasket. No, not that last one. Hee hee, but check this
out. It's an interview with Elmo's puppeteer, who is not the small, squeeky voiced individual that I envisioned.
I have a feeling, though, that we've crested this particular baby fetish. And, as obsessions go, it could be worse. And I'm sure the next one will be!